


Somewhere All Bright and New

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: A Whole New World Exchange, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, more than 5k, parks and recreation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma Simmons can handle anything that comes her way, but a government shutdown, her job in danger and an infuriating state auditor with a not-so-terrible face, all at once? Oof. A Fitzsimmons Parks & Rec AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere All Bright and New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notlovenotalways](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlovenotalways/gifts).



> Written for notlovenotalways on tumblr, for thefitzsimmonsnetwork's More Than 5k/A Whole New World Exchange! I hope you like it!
> 
> Title taken from "Wildflowers" by Tom Petty.
> 
> Thank you to eclecticmuses for betaing!

\----

Jemma smiled, enjoying the early morning air on her way into work. She loved the beginning of summer. It was hot, but not yet too hot. She felt full of possibility.

But then, Jemma Simmons felt full of possibility nearly every day.

“Morning, Jasper,” she said to a passing janitor in the building lobby.

“Have a good day, Ms. Simmons!”

“You too!” she called over her shoulder. The elevator took her to the second floor, and she began to mentally catalog the items on her to-do list. It was practically miniscule, she thought-- only 47 items to tick off!

She pushed through the doorway to the Parks and Recreation Department and was unsurprised to discover she was the first one to arrive. After all, it was 6:57 a.m. But Jemma had things to do, and no pesky “hours of operation” could stand in her way.

 

 

An hour and a half later, Jemma had checked 14 things off her to-do list, using her tried and true color-coded checkmark system. Orange for fully-completed items; pink for items that required follow-up, and green for items she felt particularly proud of. She thought those might make good fodder for a future scrapbook.

She glanced at her watch. Nearly 8:30. The rest of the department would begin to trickle in any moment.

Right on cue, Skye shuffled through the door, nearly knocking over the coat rack with her eyes glued to her phone.

“Morning, Skye,” called Jemma, coming out of her office. “Who are you texting?”

“Not texting, tweeting.”

“Oh! How lovely.” Jemma didn’t have Twitter, but Skye had once set up a parody account in her name. Every hour, it tweeted the scientific name for a particular tree, a chemical equation, or the word “scones.” (It had amassed 16 followers, of which Jemma felt a little proud.) “You’re in a bit early, aren’t you?”

Skye finally looked up from her phone. “Duh, Jemma. You texted me nine times between the hours of 10 p.m. and midnight telling me this meeting today was really important.”

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “Was it really nine?”

“To be honest,” said Skye with a smile, “I was surprised it wasn’t fifteen. You’re really improving, Simmons.”

“Ha ha, Skye. In any case, who could sleep on a morning like today, anyway?”

“I could,” said Hunter, yawning as he came through the door. “I can sleep on any morning. Or afternoon. Or night. Really anytime.” Bobbi followed him in with a roll of her eyes.

“Eventually you’re going to have to see a doctor about that narcolepsy, Hunter.”

“Never mind Hunter’s sleep problems-- although yes, Hunter, please go to the doctor. You fell asleep in the middle of a park last week. Children began to use you as a jungle gym.” Jemma gave him an admonishing look. He merely shrugged, and she moved on. “It’s New Project Proposal Day!”

“Yay…” chimed Skye and Bobbi.

“That didn’t sound very enthusiastic, you guys. It’s New Project Proposal Day!”

“Yay!”

“Much better.” Jemma popped back into her office, then returned with a thick binder. She held it aloft with a grin. “Today’s the day I finally get my telescope!”

 

\---

 

“Simmons, you’re not getting your telescope.”

Jemma’s face fell. She had only opened her binder to the table of contents-- not even the best part! “But I haven’t even shown you the projected usage by local school groups… or the accurate constellation map I made entirely out of tinfoil!”

The city manager sighed. “I’m afraid I don’t want to see them. That’s why I called you in here early. I can’t let you submit your proposal for a telescope in Wainscott Park because there’s not going to _be_ a Wainscott Park. Or a Juniper Lake Park. Or maybe even a Juniper Lake High School, for cripes sake.”

Jemma’s heart began to beat fast. “What are you saying?”

“You know we’ve been having budget problems, the whole town.”

“Of course. We all had to cut back on coffee, and pens, and printer paper. I handwrote a memo on the back of an old Thai food menu last week.”

“Well, I’m afraid those cutbacks weren’t enough. We’re having to shut down the government temporarily. Which means no parks, no government services at all, and certainly no telescopes. Not until the team we’re bringing down from the capitol can sort out our finances and get us in better shape.”

Jemma frowned. She wondered if she’d blacked out momentarily. And what was that loud buzzing sound filling her head? Had the room suddenly filled with bees? She couldn’t possibly have heard him correctly. “No telescope?"

“No telescope.”

“No parks?”

“No parks. Jemma, I’m even going to have to ask you to send your people home once you briefly meet with the auditors. Even you’ll have to go home. Essential personnel only. I’m sorry.”

The bees got louder. He put a hand on her shoulder that was probably meant to be reassuring, sympathetic. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of ulcer medication, popping two into his mouth, then two more for good measure. “Allison, send in the next one,” he called out to his secretary. Dazed, Jemma took that as her cue to leave.

 

\---

 

Once back in the Parks and Rec department, Jemma kept her head down and walked straight into the office of her Director. “May. May. May.”

The woman looked up from her computer and blinked up at Jemma. After a long moment, she quirked an eyebrow in a way that Jemma knew meant “continue.”

“Did you know they’re bringing in auditors from the capitol to fix the budget and that we’re closed until then and that I can’t get my telescope and that everything is ruined?” Jemma wrung her hands together. She didn’t know if she was mad or sad or both-- smad. _So_ smad.

“Slow down, Simmons.”

Jemma took a deep breath. “Did you know that this was happening today?”

“I knew something was happening. I didn’t know exactly what.” May leaned back in her chair thoughtfully. “It’s better than I could have imagined.”

“What on earth do you mean?”

“This government is inefficient. It has been for a long time. The people in it need to be taught a lesson-- to be more responsible.” May arched an eyebrow. “Plus, I’ve had to meet with _way_ too many bureaucrats lately. Silence will be nice for a change.”

Jemma huffed, stopping just short of stomping her foot. “But May, they’re sending everyone home! We aren’t even allowed to do our jobs!”

“Take a vacation.”

“A vacation? Like, with no work to do at all?” Her voice sounded high and reedy even to her own ears. Just as Jemma felt like she was about to explode, a knock came at May’s office door.

“Guys, there are some men in black here,” said Hunter, gesturing to the front of the office. He raised an eyebrow. “Should we be concerned about aliens?”

“Yes, Hunter, we should,” deadpanned May. She turned her attention to Jemma as she stood from her desk. “Jemma?”

“What?”

“Be nice.”

Jemma puffed out a frustrated breath, but nodded. Maybe the auditors would be just the thing the city needed. Perhaps they would get everything back on track in no time, and they’d all go back to work as if nothing had ever happened. She followed May and Hunter into the open center of the office, where the others had gathered to greet the two men in suits. One of them, a slightly older man in a grey suit over a crisp white shirt, shook Skye’s hand warmly. The other man, who looked to be about Jemma’s age-- younger than she’d have expected a state auditor to be-- stood slightly behind the first man, a tight smile on his face.

“You must be Jemma Simmons and Melinda May,” the older man greeted them both. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s just May.”

“You can call me Jemma.” She forced herself to flash him a genuine smile.

“I’m Phil Coulson, and this is my partner, Leo Fitz. I expect you’ve been informed of why we’re here?”

Jemma summoned all her considerable positive energy. “To quickly get the government on the right track so that there’s virtually no interruption in our workflow!”

“That would be great, Jemma. Fitz, what do you think?”

The younger auditor glanced up from the tablet he held in front of him. “Hmm? Oh, right. No, there will probably be an interruption. In fact, in some cities, the government’s been closed for weeks. Even months.”

Jemma’s smile faded. She knew which state auditor was her least favorite already.

 

 

Minutes later, Jemma, May and Fitz sat across the conference room table from each other, while Coulson moved on to meet with another department. May wore a blank expression, the kind that told Jemma that she would be handling the bulk of the meeting. She was used to it-- May was a woman of few words. It’s why they worked so well together.

“So, how can we take care of this as quickly as possible?” Jemma asked, at the same time as Fitz asked, “What can you suggest we cut from your department?” He barely even looked up from his tablet.

“Nothing. My department--” She shot a glance at May, who only shrugged. “Sorry, our department, runs incredibly smoothly.”

“There are always things to cut out, practically speaking,” said Fitz. “Programs, personnel waste.” He squinted at his tablet screen. “How about Lance Hunter?”

Jemma frowned. “Hunter is an asset to this department.” It was at least partially true.

“Fine. Skye-- just Skye, it looks like. What is she, some kind of a pop star?”

“Skye is one of the city’s most valuable employees.”

“Alright, then. Barbara Morse.”

Jemma put a hand to her chest, offended at the mere suggestion. “ _She’s amazing_.”

Fitz set his tablet down on the table. She thought she even caught him rolling his eyes. “Look, Ms. Simmons. There are going to have to be cuts. People are going to be fired. Possibly quite a few people. It really makes no difference to me who or what goes, but in the end, the numbers have to add up.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s simple math, Ms. Simmons.”

She couldn’t keep the glare off her face. “I said you could call me Jemma. Though I’m rethinking that now, because-- I think you are a jerk.”

May quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. If Fitz was affected by the comment, it didn’t register on his face. He simply took a deep, resigned breath, and let it out slowly. “I’m only here to help.” For whatever reason, that just made Jemma angrier.

“Yeah? Well maybe you should go help some other department, because we’re doing just fine!”

He stared her down for a moment, then flipped the cover to his tablet closed and stood up. “Alright. I’ll see myself out. We can make the necessary cuts without your assistance.”

Jemma crossed her arms, seething as she watched him walk out the door. May, who hadn’t spoken the whole time, tilted her head at Jemma and let out a little chuckle.

“If that was you being nice,” she said, “I’d be interested in seeing what would’ve happened had I told you to do your worst.”

 

\--

 

After the meeting with Fitz, May received a memo telling them to send everyone home. The government was officially shut down. As the department’s Director, and therefore essential personnel, May would be able to come in and work, of course, and Jemma knew six different ways to sneak into the office that she though might come in handy, but no one else was permitted inside until the shutdown was over.

Jemma didn’t know what to do with a whole afternoon off. She spent forty-five minutes on the treadmill hoping it would assuage her anger, but it only spurred it on. She flipped through daytime TV for five minutes-- _rubbish_ \-- and finished two books she’d been partway through. By evening, she was anxious to get out of the house.

Typically, Jemma loved to cook, but between work and her own pet projects, she rarely had time to keep much in her refrigerator besides beer and sriracha. This could be a great opportunity to finally completely stock her pantry.

Or so she thought, until she nearly rammed her cart into her least favorite state auditor at the market.

“Sorry, I was just-- oh. Hi.” He maneuvered his cart out of her way and gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh.” She stood up straighter, puffing out her chest just a bit. She hoped she seemed tall and intimidating. “Hello, _Leo_.”

He cringed, shaking his head. “Please don’t call me that. Only my mum calls me that, and I don’t even really like it when she does it. Just Fitz is fine.”

“Fitz, then.”

There was an awkward pause. He glanced down into her excessively full cart, which made her feel suddenly anxious and on guard. He looked back up at her with a little half-grin. “Having a party tonight?”

She glared at him. “No.”

His smile faltered. “Ah. I didn’t mean-- I wasn’t-- I mean, I wasn’t angling for an invitation, if that’s what you thought.”

Jemma let out a laugh that sounded haughty even to her own ears. “That’s good. Because my parties are only for people who aren’t out to ruin mine and my friends’ lives. And they’re _fantastic_.” Even she thought it sounded a bit harsh-- after all, Jemma _loved_ to throw parties and invite people she didn’t know very well. It was an incredible way to get to know them. But somehow, she didn’t see getting to know this by-the-book auditor in her future.

Clearly, he thought so, too. He grimaced, nodding, and started to push his cart away down the aisle in the opposite direction of her. By the time he was passing the spaghetti sauce, Jemma’s normally-polite nature began to get the better of her. She sighed, shifting from one foot to another as she leaned on her cart.

“Wait-- Fitz.”

He turned around hesitantly. “Yeah?”

“The Red Barn Ale?” She nodded to the six-pack of beer that sat in his shopping cart. “It’s terrible. Even Al, who owns the brewery, hates it. Try the Six Hens Lager instead.”

Fitz blinked at her for a few moments, then nodded with the ghost of a smile, pulling the six-pack out of his cart. She nodded back and pushed her cart in the opposite direction. At least she’d done her good deed for the day.

 

\---

 

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Skye,” Jemma said loudly over the din of the Boiler Room.

“No prob, boss.”

Jemma shot her a look. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”

“Suit yourself. I’m gonna get us some drinks. You want beer, cocktails, shots?”

Jemma puffed out her cheeks and thought about it for a moment. “All of the above? It’s been a long couple of days.”

With a nod, Skye shimmied up to the bar and got the bartender’s attention. Jemma scanned the Boiler Room while she waited. It was fairly crowded for a Thursday night. She waved to a couple of fellow city employees sipping fruity drinks on a couch. They looked oddly happy, considering they wouldn’t be able to go back to work for an indefinite amount of time.

“Here you go-- one Six Hens, one superstrong gin and tonic, and one shot of unidentified clear liquor.” Skye had carried them all over on a tray, which she then stashed on another high-top table.

“Unidentified?” Jemma enjoyed drinking as much as the next person, but something about the words “unidentified” and “liquor” put together made her feel apprehensive.

“Eh, don’t worry, Trip’s bartending tonight,” said Skye, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s never steered me wrong before.”

Jemma laughed. “When are you going to go on an actual date with him? One that doesn’t involve him serving you and you tipping him?”

Skye smirked. “Please, like he charges me for drinks. And I don’t know.” She eyed the man across the bar, and Jemma thought she saw him wink back. “I have a good feeling about tonight.”

She raised her shot glass, and Jemma mimicked her, clinking the glasses together before choking down the liquid inside. Jemma coughed. After the burning gasoline flavor, it almost tasted fruity.

“To fate!” Skye held her cocktail and her beer aloft. “May it lead us in the right direction tonight.”

Jemma clinked both her drinks against Skye’s with a grin. “Hear, hear!”

“May we both find exactly what we’re looking for tonight,” Skye continued. “And… I don’t know… do something we wouldn’t normally do!”

“You just want an excuse to make out with the bartender.” Jemma took a swig of beer, followed by a long sip of her gin and tonic.

“So? That’s something I don’t normally do! And anyway--”

“Ugh.”

Skye’s brow wrinkled. “You don’t think I should go home with Trip tonight?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s-- that.” Jemma pointed to the entrance to the bar, where Coulson and Fitz had just walked in. Coulson was smiling-- or at least smirking-- and taking a look around the bar, and Fitz followed behind him with his hands in his pockets, looking subdued.

“They seemed nice,” Skye offered, sipping her beer.

Jemma’s nose wrinkled involuntarily. “Ugh, no, Skye! Coulson, maybe, but Fitz? I’m not even sure he has our town’s best interests at heart.” She leaned across the table conspiratorily. “He wanted to _fire Hunter_.”

Skye’s face was blank. “We all want to fire Hunter.”

“Beside the point! I don’t think we should have to fire anyone. We should be able to--”

“More shots, ladies?” Trip set two more rounds of clear liquor on their table. “Skye said to keep ‘em coming,” he answered in response to Jemma’s questioning glance. She sighed, but with a flick of her eyes toward the auditors, reached out and downed both her shots in rapid succession.

“Damn, Jemma!” Skye laughed before taking one of her shots. “Pace yourself. It’s been a stressful week.”

“You’re telling me.” Jemma looked up at Trip, who tore his eyes away from Skye. “You heard the woman! Keep ‘em coming.”

Trip chuckled, raising his hand to his forehead in a mock salute before heading back toward the bar.

He kept his promise. Two hours later, Jemma felt hazy and determined, like she knew she wanted to do something but had no idea what she wanted to do. Instead, she kept sipping her beer (Trip had, at least, convinced the pair of them to stick to two drinks at a time rather than three) and giggling with Skye.

“Maybe it’s fine that I don’t have a job.”

Skye held her glass up to her lips, feeling around for the straw inelegantly with her tongue. Once she found it, she took a long, slurping sip. “You have job. A job. You have a job.”

“Doesn’t matter, if they fire the whole town.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can you fire a whole town? Who would pick up the garbage?”

“That would really stink,” she Skye solemnly, before her face broke into an excited smile. “Stink! Like garbage!”

Jemma nodded, taking another swig of beer. She picked at the label. Maybe it was time to head home for the night. It had been awhile since she’d had so much to drink on a work night… not that she had work to go to in the morning.

“Hi, Jemma,” came a voice from over her shoulder. She twisted in her seat, nearly toppling out of it, and sneered when she saw it was Fitz. He came around to hover in front of their table as she glared.

“Skye, Fitz. Fitz, Skye.”

“We met this morning,” said Fitz. He didn’t sound nearly as drunk as Jemma felt. That wouldn’t do. She picked up the last shot sitting on their table and shoved it at him.

“Here, drink this.”

He took it, brows knitting together. “Um… okay.” He threw the shot back quite expertly, Jemma noted, then set the glass back on the table. “Salty,” he muttered.

Jemma watched him for a long second. He didn’t _look_ like someone who had come to ruin her life. In fact, he looked quite nice-- if you liked button-down plaid shirts and cardigans. It was a pity he was so terrible, in most every way. She was about to tell him that, when he spoke again.

“So, got any big plans for your time off?”

Time off? _Time off_? What did he think this was, some kind of long-awaited beach vacation? Jemma tried to meet Skye’s eyes, seeking solidarity, but she’d slipped out of her seat and drifted over to the bar and was currently leaning halfway over it talking to Trip. Jemma turned her attention back to Fitz.

“Where do you get off, hmm? Coming into _my_ bar and accusing _me_ of taking a vacation?”

He looked taken aback. “Er… I didn’t mean anything by it. And… this is your bar, you said?”

What, did he think she couldn’t possibly _own a bar_? Never mind that she _didn’t_ actually own the bar. “I’ll have you know that I have a _drink_ named after me here. The Jemma. It’s whiskey and Earl Grey, and Trip said if anyone else ever expresses interest in ordering it they’ll even consider listing it on the _menu_.”

Fitz smirked infuriatingly. “Sounds delicious. I love tea.”

Was he mocking her? “Oh, please. As if you could ever love anything.” Ignoring his frown, she continued. “You just come into town with your stupid high horse, and you and your horse just slash everything to bits, firing everyone in sight. Well, not here!” She took one long swig off her beer, slamming the bottle back down onto the table once she’d drained it. “You and your terrible horse aren’t going to ruin Pawnee.”

He put his hands on his hips, a dry look on his face. “Is Coulson my horse in this scenario?”

“It’s a _metaphor_ ,” spat out Jemma. She stood up quickly, nearly losing her balance. He reached out a hand quickly, as if instinctively trying to steady her, but didn’t make contact. _Good_. She didn’t want anything to do with him, anyway. “Goodbye. Have fun firing everyone who works at the bar.” With that, she spun around and marched toward the exit, ready to walk the three blocks home and revel in her verbal beatdown. She’d _definitely_ won this round.

 

\---

 

“Simmons?” May leaned against the door jamb of Jemma’s office, arms crossed. “You okay?”

Jemma rested her chin on her hand, groaning. “Perfectly fine. Fresh as a daisy. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re not supposed to be here, you know.”

“I had to pick up some paperwork. And complete some paperwork. And--” Jemma could tell May wasn’t going to buy her excuses. She sighed. “I got ready for work on autopilot and was in the parking lot before I remembered I’m not _technically_ allowed in the building.”

“Simmons.”

“May.”

“I saw what happened at the Boiler Room last night.”

Jemma furrowed her brow. “You were at the Boiler Room?

May narrowed her eyes. “If I’d wanted you to know I was there, you would have. But that’s beside the point. I saw you.”

“Yeah, Skye and I kind of tied one on, I suppose.” Jemma opened her desk drawer and dug through it until she found a bottle of Advil, popping two in her mouth, then a third, and chasing them with a sip of tea.

“You also verbally abused the state auditor.”

Jemma nearly spat out her tea. “Verbally abused? I did no such thing!” May raised an eyebrow. “Well, he had it coming.” Somehow, May raised her eyebrow even higher. “He started it?” Jemma said meekly.

“Go apologize.”

“What?” Jemma’s head turned toward May fast enough that it exacerbated her already-pounding headache. She wondered if it was safe to take another Advil. “Why should I apologize to him? He’s the one trying to ruin my life.”

“You know that’s not true. And you need to apologize to him because you are a nice person. You enjoy being a nice person, don’t you?”

Jemma pouted. “Yes.”

“So go be a nice person in the auditor’s office.”

Jemma leaned back in her desk chair, sucking in a huge breath and letting it out. She picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk a few times before setting it back down. Anything to avoid what she knew she had to do. But May was right. With a little groan, she pushed her chair back and stood up-- slowly, so she wouldn’t jostle her head too much.

“You’re a nice person, too, May,” she said as she passed the Director on her way out of the office.

“Tell anyone that and I’ll fire you myself.”

 

\---

 

“Knock knock,” Jemma said, hovering at the entrance to the conference room that Fitz and Coulson had set up as a makeshift office.

Coulson was nowhere to be found, but Fitz sat behind his laptop at the conference table, an elbow on the table and his chin propped on his fist. He straightened up when he spotted her, a guarded look on his face.

“Ms. Simmons?”

She cringed. She probably deserved that less than friendly greeting. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” The words sounded awkward even to her own ears. Fitz glanced out the window-- a light drizzle of rain dripped down the panes of glass.

“Lovely.”

Jemma sighed. “Look, I came to apologize for last night. I… may have had a few too many drinks with Skye…”

He let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Not sure you even needed more than one to get drunk. That shot you gave me was basically rat poison.”

“Anyway… I suppose I was out of line. And I’m sorry for saying those things about you.”

Fitz raised an eyebrow at her, the corner of his mouth turning up. “And about my horse?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You have a horse?”

“Never mind.”

“I just get really, really passionate about this place. I love my job, and the people here. And when you come in and try to take all that away from me--”

“Jemma, Jemma, stop.” He pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m not trying to take anything away from you personally. Or from the town, for that matter.”

She groaned. “I know that, but you just don’t understand--”

“--that the people here are special? Different?”

“Yes,” she said with a little pout. He cocked his head to the side for a moment, looking thoughtful. Just as she opened her mouth to make another argument-- the people weren’t only special and different, but also _wonderful_ \-- he spoke again.

“Do you want to go get a beer?”

“What?”

With a nod, he walked around the conference table and grabbed his cardigan off the back of a chair, heading for the door. “Let’s go get a beer.”

She wanted to say no, but she did still have a bit of a headache from the night before. Maybe a little hair of the dog would clear that right up.

 

\--

 

“I’ll have the summer ale, please.” Jemma hefted her purse onto the bar and sat down on one of the tall stools. “And he’ll have nothing. Or-- do you still have some of that brown water from when the pipes went haywire last month?” There was less bite to her words than there had been last night.

Fitz smirked as he sat in the stool beside her. “I’ll have the summer ale as well, thanks.”

It wasn’t fair. Couldn’t the team sent to whip the town budget into shape be nicer, more supportive? Or even better-- couldn’t the town handle their budget themselves? After all, Jemma had binders upon binders of ideas that could be implemented immediately. She knew she didn’t exactly have experience in the financial side of things, but she had never shied away from learning something new.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, tipping his head forward to get a better look at her. She sipped her beer.

“Are you sure that’s a fiscally responsible offer in light of our budget crisis?”

He let out a surprised chuckle. “I suppose not. I have a sinking feeling you have quite a few thoughts. I’d go broke.”

Jemma sighed. “I just don’t understand how things could really be so bad that you have to cut this and fire that. Pawnee is a great town.”

“I’m sure it is.”

She looked at him expectantly. “And you’re trying to destroy it!”

Fitz held up both hands. “I’m not! Look, Phil and I are here to help. We’ve been to hundreds of towns just like this one and we’ve helped in almost every case.”

Jemma snorted. He’d surely run a few towns into the ground. But she supposed she’d have to acknowledge at some point that the auditors had been brought in for a good reason.

“I understand that. But you’ve never been to _this_ town.”

“Believe me, I’ve been to plenty others _just_ like it.”

 _Excuse me_? “That’s not possible. Pawnee is special.”

Fitz ran a hand along his stubbled jaw, shaking his head. “Okay, alright. Pawnee is special. The Parks department is special. You’re-- Look, it’s just, we still have to find money that’s just not there."

Jemma sighed, picking at the label on her beer bottle. They were both silent for a few long moments before she spoke up. “The Parks department _is_ different,” she insisted. Then, after a beat, she continued with a little half-smile. “I got into Parks because I loved nature. When I was a kid, I kept a leaf journal. And I’d try to include every leaf indigenous to the region.”

“Bet your parents loved that,” said Fitz, taking a swig of his beer. She chuckled.

“They loved that I was so devoted to something educational. They _didn’t_ love the leaves and debris all over their house.” She wrinkled her nose. “The floor of my room sometimes looked like a compost heap.”

“So you wanted to work with nature?”

“Something like that. I kind of fell into it-- it began as an internship when I was at university, and then it just sort of stuck. I’d initially wanted to go into biochemistry-- work in a lab somewhere or something-- but working for the Parks service is so hands-on.” She smiled at him, a little wistfully, and the thought flitted through her mind that it was awfully strange to be opening up like this to someone who was such a jerk. “And I can help people. I mean, I know I could help people as a biochemist as well, but with this job, I can see the impact. We put up a new slide at Tyler Park and there were children playing on it that afternoon. We planted cherry trees along Sycamore Drive and Mrs. Applebaum made me a cherry pie. We’re doing good here.” Her face darkened. “Which is why it’s so frustrating that we can’t do anything at _all_ right now.”

Fitz frowned, looking down. “I know it is.”

“Oh, do you?” Jemma felt her annoyance from earlier flare up once again. “What do you know about wanting to help people through service and science? Your whole job is to tear things apart.”

“That’s not fair.” He met her eyes again with his blue ones, but there was no anger in his gaze this time. “You know, I do know a little bit about what you're talking about.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I didn’t start out as a budget specialist. I was a scientist too, actually.”

 _That_ certainly piqued Jemma’s interest. “Really?”

“Really. I, um. I was sort of a child prodigy, though I never much cared for that term. In engineering, specifically.”

“So what happened?”

He leaned forward and set his elbows on the bar, fidgeting with the cocktail napkin in front of him. “When I was a senior in high school, on a whim, I applied for this… job. To be the lead researcher at this huge laboratory that was opening in my town.”

“Wow. That’s quite a confident move for an 18-year-old.” Jemma had been somewhat of a prodigy herself, but had simply gone to university after high school. She wondered briefly if she could have gotten such a prestigious job at 18, then immediately decided that yes, she could have.

“Yeah, well, a man’ll do funny things when he wants to impress a girl, I guess.”

Jemma giggled. “A girl?"

“Not just any girl…” He smiled ruefully. “Mary Beth Anniston. She was the runner-up for Homecoming Queen. I’d asked her to go with me to the dance… she said she was going with some older guy who worked as a lifeguard down at the county pool. So I told her I could beat that, I was gonna be the head researcher at IT Labs when it opened.”

“Did she say she’d go out with you if you got the position?”

He looked at her with a _duh_ face. “Of course not. She only wanted to go out with the lifeguard, not some nerd, even a nerd with a sought-after job.”

Jemma shook her head. “I’ll never understand what appeals to some women.” She had dated her fair share of lifeguards (or lifeguard types, at least-- tall, brawny, symmetrical), but there was something about a scientific mind that she’d never stop finding appealing. Unfortunately, that kind of mind proved difficult to come by in Pawnee.

“Yeah, so I got it in my head that I should do it anyway. Apply for the job. So I did. And I got it.”

“Wow. Was it incredible?”

He gave her that deadpan stare again. “No. I blew up the lab six weeks later and was summarily fired. That’s when I decided to get out of science and research entirely. I clearly just brought bad luck into the lab.”

“And you don’t bring that bad luck to city budgets?”

Fitz shrugged. “I was always great at numbers. So much of engineering is math, anyway, and staring at numbers all day. This way, yeah, maybe I’m not building devices with my bare hands, but… at least nobody gets hurt.” He caught himself. “Physically, at least. There have been some tears.”

“Well, I suppose that’s collateral damage when you--” Something about what he’d just said triggered a memory for Jemma. “Wait a second. Physically. _Physically_.” Fitz grimaced as she continued to work things out in her head. “That’s it! The Physics Firestorm! That’s what they called it on the news. When you blew up the lab, that is.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I think I remember you! There was this photo…” Jemma tapped her fingers on the bar thoughtfully. “It was you, I think-- it must have been. In a lab coat? Covered in soot?”

He hung his head, but looked at her out of the corner of his eye and gave her a little smile. “That’s me. The headline read, ‘Science Fire Set by Science Liar?’ Which really wasn’t fair, because I didn’t _lie_ about anything. I just… didn’t have the experience necessary to oversee an entire _lab_ by myself.”

She felt a strong urge to rub his back comfortingly, though she had no idea why. After all, he _had_ been the culprit in the lab disaster. There was no need to comfort someone who had a disregard for lab safety, was there? “So you haven’t looked back since?”

“And I haven’t looked back since.” He sat up straighter. “Budget auditing makes sense to me. I mean, it’s not a dream job or anything, and sometimes I miss working in a lab, but...I’m good at it. And it’s not that bad.”

Jemma nodded, downing the last sip of her beer. “There have to be ways to fix budgets without cutting everything to shreds, though.”

He shrugged, finishing his own beer. “Sometimes there are. It just takes someone to come up with those kinds of ideas.”

A slow, genuine grin grew on Jemma’s face at that. “Well, you’re in luck,” she said, “because I am the _master_ of ideas.”

 

\----

 

Late that night, curled up on her couch in sweatpants and an old university hoodie, Jemma hadn’t exactly struck gold yet. But she was trying. She had her laptop open and notebooks spread out across her lap, and she flipped through list after list of ideas. None of them felt quite right, not yet.

She let out a little whine, slumping down in her seat and reaching for her tea. She _had_ to find something. Maybe if she took a brief break from brainstorming, something would come to her. She opened a new browser tab and navigated to her favorite news aggregator site, skimming the headlines.

And then suddenly, it was right before her eyes.

_National Science Fair in Need of New Home After Squirrels Terrorize Previously-Planned Site._

Jemma had never before loved squirrels as much as she did in that very moment.

 

\---

 

“I’ve got it!”

Fitz glanced up from his spot at the conference table, eyebrows raised. This time, Coulson sat beside him on his own laptop. “Jemma Simmons!” Coulson greeted her. “So good to see you again. Of course, you’re not technically allowed to be here.”

“I know that, of course. Oh, and good to see you, too,” she added quickly. May had been right. She _liked_ being a nice person. “But I’m here because I have an idea that could help the budget. Or at least, help the city.”

She thought she saw Fitz’s lips quirk up into a little smile, as Coulson gestured for her to sit down. “Well, since you’re already here, we might as well hear you out. What have you got for us?”

Jemma slid into a chair across the table from the two auditors, placing a black binder labeled ‘Science Fair Proposal’ in front of her. “Did you know that the National Science Fair has traditionally taken place each year in Ludlum, Ohio?”

“I did not,” said Coulson, at the same time that Fitz said, “Of course I did.” Jemma pressed on.

“Well, did you know that Ludlum is infamous for their overzealous squirrel population?” This time, both Coulson and Fitz shook their heads. “Luckily, they are. Well, terrible for them, but lucky for us. An unseasonably large spike in the Ludlum squirrel population is our gain. The animals have taken over the city center. Literally-- they’ve found squirrel infestations in several of the convention halls and ballrooms where the Science Fair is always held. So they can’t have it there this year.”

“But isn’t it a month away?” asked Fitz.

Jemma smiled gleefully. “Exactly. They’re accepting emergency proposals for a new site. That’s an influx of thousands of children and their families into the city, not to mention the fact that it draws _quite_ the audience.”

Coulson frowned. “A national children’s science fair draws an audience?”

Fitz and Jemma both laughed at that, then stopped once they realized he wasn’t kidding. “It’s only the largest science fair _in the world_ ,” noted Fitz.

“Yeah, and winners of the NSF have gone on to become incredibly well-respected researchers--” Jemma continued.

“--and even Nobel Prize winners,” interjected Fitz.

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Coulson turned his full attention to Jemma. “So you think that Pawnee could win the proposal? Have the fair here?”

She nodded eagerly. “We have the facilities for it. The accommodations. This is our least touristy season, so there are plenty of open hotel rooms. All we have to do is convince them that Pawnee is the perfect host city.”

Coulson nodded, tapping one finger against his closed mouth. “So how do you--”

“Glad you asked,” Jemma said, flipping open her binder. “The NSF committee is accepting proposals in person in their office-- which is on the outskirts of Ludlum, therefore less affected by the squirrel mayhem-- through the end of next week. I’ve already begun to put together proposal materials. All I need from _you_ is, ideally, permission to continue working.” She shot a glance at Fitz. “Even if I’m not essential personnel.”

“Why do I have a feeling that you’d do it anyway even if I didn’t give you permission?” asked Coulson. Jemma shrugged with a smile. He wasn’t wrong. “Well, I think it sounds like a terrific idea. It won’t exactly fix the budget by itself, but an influx of tourist dollars would certainly help the city. Permission granted.”

Jemma felt buoyant, full of hope for the first time since the city manager had given her the bad news. She leapt up from her chair, feeling like she could almost hug Coulson. “You won’t regret this, sir.” She hugged her binder to her chest and turned to leave the conference room. She had quite a bit of work to do.

“Wait, Jemma.” She turned back around to face them. “All eyes are on the government right now,” said Coulson. “I have the utmost faith in your abilities, but we need to make triply sure that everything is under control from a financial standpoint. Especially with so much money on the line.”

“Of course.”

“Fitz, you’ll work with Jemma on this project. See it through to the end. You should probably even accompany her to Ludlum for the proposal. I don’t want there to be a single I undotted or T uncrossed.”

As Coulson spoke, Jemma met Fitz’s wide eyes. She took a deep breath, then nodded with a smile. Thank goodness she’d already decided that she didn’t _quite_ hate Fitz, after all, because it looked like they’d be spending quite a bit of time together.

 

\---

 

“So, do you have any documentation about Pawnee’s scientific history?” Fitz took a huge bite of his sandwich and chewed as Jemma flipped through her binder.

“Hmm… I have stats on science test scores… former Pawnee residents who participated in the NSF... “

“Not sure that’ll be enough,” he said around a mouthful of bread and prosciutto. Jemma rolled her eyes, and refused to answer him until he’d swallowed. They’d holed up in a back corner booth at Jemma’s favorite local diner, the table strewn with papers and folders and notebooks in addition to the plates of half-eaten food. Four plates of half-eaten food total, as they’d been sitting in the same spot since before lunch and it was nearly 8 o’clock at night.

“Of course it won’t be enough,” said Jemma once Fitz had swallowed his bite of sandwich and wiped his mouth. “That’s why we’re here. We’ve got less than two weeks to put together a proposal that most towns would spend months, even a full year, putting together.”

Fitz shrugged. “But none of the other towns in the running will have any more lead time than you do. So what’s the big deal?”

She frowned deeply. “What’s the big deal? Fitz, the big deal is that _my town is on the line here_.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going to sell the city for parts if we don’t win the proposal. Not that there’s any chance we won’t win the proposal,” he rushed to say. “I just mean, you seemed fairly prepared before you even came into the office today.”

“And I’ll be even _more_ prepared next Thursday when we present to the committee. I _excel_ at preparation.” Jemma turned her attention back to the stack of papers in front of her. He was silent for a moment, and when she looked up, he had an odd sort of smile on his face.

“You were the kind of student who loved homework more than life itself, weren’t you?”

She shook her head with a laugh, balling up a piece of scrap paper and throwing it at him. “Pass me the job placement numbers.” As he did so, Jemma considered how surprising it was that he’d been willing to spend the last eight or so hours doing research with her. She supposed it was technically his job, as Coulson had put him on the task, but still. She eyed him as she sipped her water. Surprising, indeed.

 

\--

 

The next several days were a whirlwind of activity for Jemma-- which, to be fair, was par for the course in her life. She split her time between working on the NSF proposal with Fitz (in her now-unused office, at the local university library, and this time, in her living room after he’d dropped by with Thai takeout and a fresh stack of research files) and the regularly scheduled events that tended to keep her quite busy outside of work. Unfortunately, that left little time for coffee dates with friends.

“Jemma, come on. I haven’t seen you in days. Take a break,” said Skye over the phone. Jemma cradled her cell with one hand and jotted down notes in the margins of a budget printout with another, frowning.

“You know how important this is, Skye.”

“Duh. End of the world, Pawnee may never recover, blah blah blah. Just meet me at the diner for half an hour. Your boring paperwork stuff can wait.”

“I’ll have you know it’s _quite_ fascinating. Fitz even developed a program for Excel that identifies fiscal opportunities that we can use to--”

“Blah blah blah. Coffee. You and me. See you in 15.” Skye hung up the phone. Jemma sighed, looking down at the spreadsheet in front of her. The numbers _had_ begun to swarm and spin, just a tad. She bit her lip and looked over at Fitz, who was intently focused on his laptop screen. She felt bad leaving him alone to work when he’d been so helpful over the past few days, but it _had_ been a long time since she’d taken a break.

“Fitz? Would you be terribly offended if I left for a few minutes? Skye wants to meet for coffee and she sounded like she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

He yawned, stretching his arms over his head and tipping his chair backwards onto two legs. “That’s fine,” he said “I could probably use a nap, to be honest. Oddly enough, you don’t get the best night’s sleep of your life at the Pawnee Sleepytime Motel.”

Jemma chuckled, neatening the papers on her coffee table before standing. “I won’t be gone long. We’ve got exciting plans for tonight!”

“We do?” he asked with a frown.

“Cataloging hotel accommodations within the greater Pawnee area by six different metrics!” It sounded less than thrilling even to Jemma, and she laughed, shrugging. She stowed her cell in her purse and shouldered it.

“Can’t wait,” he said dryly. “I’ll um. I won’t be able to stick around too late tonight for that. I’ve, ah, got an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.”

Jemma was about to ask what kind of appointment-- surely any doctor or dentist he’d need to see would be back in the capitol-- when he stood up quickly. “But that’s not important right now. I guess I’ll head back to the motel for a quick nap, and come back later?”

Well, that didn’t seem efficient. She shook her head quickly, gesturing to her sofa. “Nonsense. Just take a nap here. I can almost guarantee that my couch is more comfortable than the Sleepytime’s mattresses.”

He looked uneasy as his eyes slid to her plush tan couch, then back to her. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose, or anything like that.”

“How could you be imposing if I’m not even here?” She nodded resolutely. “Spare blankets are in the hall closet if you’re a chilly sleeper.”

“I’m not. I’m hot.” His eyes widened minutely. “I mean, I’m a hot sleeper. I don’t-- no blankets necessary.”

Jemma crossed to the door, turning back to him with her hand on the knob. “I’ll be back in a bit. Sweet dreams, Fitz.” She grinned at him as she exited, leaving him standing beside the couch with a thoughtful look on his face.

 

\---

 

Forty minutes later, she was finishing the last of a blueberry scone and sipping coffee across from Skye at the diner. She had to admit to herself-- it was nice to take a break every now and then.

“Aren’t you glad you did this?” asked Skye, after she’d finished filling Jemma in on the date she’d been on with Trip-- the very successful date that had lasted well into the next morning. Skye had never been one to spare Jemma the details.

“Mmm. When you’re right, you’re right.” Jemma pinched a few scone crumbs from her plate and popped them into her mouth. She turned her wrist to glance at her watch and grimaced. “But I should probably think about heading back. We still have so much left to do.”

Skye pouted. “But it’s beautiful out. How can you stay cooped up in your house on a day like today, when we don’t have to go into work?”

Jemma ignored Skye. Though the prospect of spending some time outdoors was tempting, she’d never been particularly sunkissed. She’d always found spending an afternoon working on a project indoors enjoyable on its own. She gestured for their server, asking for their check and two hot teas to go when he stopped by the table.

“I don’t really like tea, Jem. Remember, my people threw that shit in the ocean.”

“It was technically the harbor, and it’s not for you.”

Skye frowned. “So who’s it for?”

Jemma counted out cash from her wallet and avoided making eye contact with Skye as she answered. “It’s for Fitz. He’s waiting for me at home.”

“Um… how on _E_ _arth_ did you let me go on and on about Trip for so long without telling me that you’re _boning the state auditor_?” Skye leaned forward, craning her neck to catch Jemma’s eye. Jemma looked at her reproachfully.

“I’m not _boning_ anyone. He and I are working closely together on the proposal. I told you Coulson had asked him to help me.”

“Yeah,” said Skye, leaning back in the booth and raising her eyebrows. “Help you. Not lounge around your house in his underwear while you’re not around.”

“Fitz is _not_ in his underwear at my house right now!” At least, Jemma hoped he wasn’t. He _had_ said he was a hot sleeper, after all. _Oh dear_.

“Fine. But you’ve been ‘working closely’ together, huh?” Skye said, putting air quotes around the words. “That’s all you’ve been doing? Just working?”

“Yes! This is a very important project to me. To all of us. He seems to understand that.” The waiter dropped off the pair of to-go teas, taking the cash Jemma offered with a smile, and the two women slid out of the booth.

“But isn’t this the same guy that you said was, and I quote, ‘an incorrigible man out to ruin your life?’”

Jemma sighed as she pushed open the diner door and squinted in the bright afternoon sun. “Did I really say that?”

“About a trillion times.” Skye tapped a finger to her chin. “Ohhh. Actually, you know, it makes sense.”

“What does?”

“Why you were so fixated on him. Why you never shut up about how awful he was. You were just attracted to him!”

Jemma turned to fully face Skye, stopping in her tracks on the sidewalk. “I was not!”

Skye grinned. “So you’re saying you are now?"

“Ugh, Skye!” Jemma could feel the tips of her ears and the tops of her cheeks growing hot. From the sun, she guessed. “He’s a nicer man than I might have guessed. He’s been working really hard on this proposal, and he doesn’t even live here. Isn’t that reason enough for me to have slightly altered my opinion on him?”

“Of course!”

Jemma nodded and turned forward again, and they began to walk toward the parking lot.

“But you’re also hella into him.”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

Jemma glared at her friend. “No need to act like a _child_ , Skye.” Skye shrugged. “Fine. If I admit that I find his face to be not entirely terrible, will you give it up?”

“Only if you say it.” They’d reached their cars, and stopped beside Jemma’s passenger door. She opened it and swung her purse into the passenger seat before turning back to Skye, leaning her elbow on the top of the driver’s door.

“Alright. He’s not terrible, face-wise.”

Skye waggled her eyebrows at Jemma. “How about butt-wise?”

“Ugh, Skye! I have to go.” Skye just giggled and waved as Jemma slid into her car and shut the door. She sat with the engine off for a moment, both hands on the steering wheel, and tried to avoid picturing Fitz’s butt. After a few tense moments, she gave in with a huge sigh. _Not terrible, butt-wise, either_ , she thought regretfully to herself as she drove out of the parking lot.

 

\---

 

When she arrived back at her house, Jemma slipped the key into the lock gently, slowly opening the door to avoid the creaking sound it often made. She didn’t want to wake Fitz up if he was still napping.

The back of the couch faced the front door, so she couldn’t see him yet. _Please let him be fully-clothed._ Tiptoeing forward, he slowly came into view, and she found that he was wearing clothes-- the same dark jeans and button-down plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up that he’d had on earlier in the day-- and was indeed fast asleep on the sofa.

She took a moment to take him in. One side of his face had a few reddened grooves on it, like he’d been sleeping with his cheek squashed against the seams of a throw pillow, and she almost giggled fondly before catching herself.

When he snuffled softly in his sleep, smacking his lips a few times before settling back down, she _did_ giggle fondly to herself, letting out a soft sigh.

Then suddenly, as she realized just how far from disdain her thoughts about him had drifted, her smile faded. _Uh oh._

 

\---

 

By the end of the following week, Jemma and Fitz had managed to create a proposal that seemed unassailable. They stayed up late the two nights leading up to the proposal date (both times in her office-- she hadn’t invited him over to her house since the day that Skye had put all sorts of ideas into her head), Fitz quizzing her on the details of their pitch, throwing curveball after curveball her way. By the time they’d finished, they both knew the proposal forward and backward.

“Are you excited about a roadtrip with the future Mr. Jemma Simmons?” Skye asked from her seat on Jemma’s bed. Jemma glared at her, tossing another cardigan into her overnight bag.

“Stop calling him that. Nothing is happening with Fitz.”

“Yet.”

Jemma peered into her closet, taking stock of its contents. “Should I bring the red blouse with the white polka dots on it? Or maybe the navy one with the bow?”

“Are you stressing over your sartorial choices because you want to look nice for the selection committee--”

“Yes, of course.”

“--or because you want to look nice for Fitz?”

Jemma didn’t turn around right away. After a moment, she grabbed both blouses from their hangers and folded them neatly before stacking them in her bag. “I just want to look nice. Period.”

Skye fell back on the bed, toying with Jemma’s TV remote. “You know you have an above-average fashion sense. Don’t sweat it. They-- and by ‘they’ I mean everyone I just mentioned-- will love you.”

Despite herself, Jemma smiled gratefully at her best friend. She had to admit that she’d been feeling a bit nervous. While they were fully prepared for everything the committee could throw at them, there was no way of knowing what kind of plans other cities had put together. And Jemma just _knew_ that if they could bring the NSF to Pawnee, the government would be back up and running all the more quickly.

“So are you two sharing a room tonight?”

“Of course not! That would be completely unprofessional.”

“But the city’s running low on cash, right? Might as well save ‘em some money.”

Jemma zipped up her bag. “I’m sure they’d appreciate your penny-pinching ideas, but no. We each have our own room at a mid-range hotel close to the NSF organization's office.”

“Bummer. I was hoping you’d get there and they’d be all, ‘Oh, we’re so sorry Ms. Simmons, but we’ve only got one room left, and it’s only got one bed, so you’ll have to share!’”

“You know, I don’t tease you like this about Trip, and you actually _are_ dating _him_.”

Skye grinned up at her. “It’s just so easy.” She sat up then, resting on her elbows. “Oh, but Jemma?”

“Yeah?”

“Go with the red shirt. Leave the top couple of buttons undone. You know. If you really want to get what you want.”

 

\---

 

An hour later, she was sitting in the passenger seat of Fitz’s car, fiddling with her phone as he searched for a good radio station. The drive to Ludlum was only three hours, but they’d decided to head over after work hours the night before their appointment and stay the night. With their designated time at 7:30 a.m., it only made sense-- after all, not everyone was accustomed to getting the limited amount of sleep that Jemma was.

There was no reason to feel nervous, Jemma told herself. She had never failed at something she’d prepared this much for. She decidedly did _not_ choose to think about the various accusations about Fitz that Skye refused to stop making.

“You know, we drive all over the state, me and Coulson. From town to town, little ones, big ones.” Fitz glanced at her. “And you know what the main thing that surprises me is?”

“What’s that?”

“This drive never manages to get less boring.”

Jemma laughed, looking out at the flat expanse of fields to the right and left of the car. “It’s prettier in the fall,” she said, picturing auburn-colored leaves and crisp air.

“One of these days, some scientist is going to figure out teleportation.”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning her head back against the headrest and tilting it to look at him. “Who knows, maybe it could have been you, Mr. Engineer.”

His smile faltered, and she wished she could take it back, but didn’t say anything else. After a few awkward moments, a song came on the radio that Fitz liked, so he turned it up a tad. She hoped that the rest of the trip would feel a bit more comfortable-- the way their conversations had become over the past two weeks.

“Are you nervous?”

Her eyes widened. Could he tell what she was thinking? “No, of course not.”

“It’s okay if you are. You’ve been working really hard on this. Tomorrow’s a big deal.”

She looked at him again. “Yeah, it is.”

“I think you’re going to do great though. Amazingly, even.”

“Yeah?”

He met her eyes out of his peripheral vision. “Yeah.”

And just like that, the drive wasn’t awkward anymore.

 

\---

 

“I can’t believe you think Eleven is better than Ten,” said Fitz, gesturing toward the TV in her hotel room with the crust of his pizza. “Are you completely mental?”

“Well, I can’t believe you like Donna better than Rose! Everyone loves Rose!” Jemma dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, sliding the pizza box down to the foot of the bed. She sat cross-legged on top of the covers, and Fitz sat in the armchair on the other side of the bed, a perfectly respectable distance away.

“Hold on, I never said I _didn’t_ like Rose. And I even said I liked Amy best, anyway, so we’re arguing about second place, really.” He crumpled his napkin and tossed it into the wastebasket beside the dresser without hitting the rim.

Jemma leaned her head back against the wood headboard and smiled. “Fine. Agree to disagree.” She took a deep breath, surveying the hotel room, and let it out as her eyes landed on her laptop bag. “I should probably review our notes some more. Make sure I know them inside and out.” She moved to get off the bed, but Fitz sat forward in his chair and held out a hand, indicating for her to stop.

“Jemma, Jemma, wait.” She paused with both feet on the floor, looking over her shoulder at him. “Just-- we’ve been preparing for almost two weeks now. You know this stuff.”

“But what if--”

“You’re going to be just fine.”

“But…”

He sighed. “How about one more episode? It’s…” He glanced at the clock across the room. “It’s 9 now. Let’s relax and watch one more episode, then spend an hour going over the plan, then get to bed. We’ll get plenty of sleep and be rested and ready tomorrow.”

She hesitated. Jemma loved to relax, let loose, have fun, all sort of enjoyable things. It was just very difficult to convince herself to do so when there was a project to do or a presentation to prepare for. But he wasn’t wrong. Relaxing with pizza, Doctor Who and him had put her mind almost completely at ease for the last hour or so.

“Alright. One more, then review, then bed.”

He grinned at her, standing and picking up the pizza box from the bed to set it on top of the mini-refrigerator in the corner. Then he turned back to the bed, where she’d scooted back into a sitting position. He seemed to consider his options for a moment before nodding minutely, as if to himself, and sitting down on the bed beside her. He was all the way on the other side, as far over as he could get and still be on the mattress, but her heart still started to beat just a little bit faster in her chest.

After a moment, he looked over at her. His eyes were very blue, she thought to herself, and she couldn’t quite make herself look anywhere else. They sat there like that for just a moment longer than was strictly professional (although, Jemma thought, was lounging on a hotel bed watching Doctor Who particularly professional, anyway?), before he smiled again and picked up the remote.

“Best of both worlds-- Eleven-era and Pond-era?” Nodding as he selected the episode, she settled in for an hour of relaxing.

 

 

Possibly a little _too_ much relaxing, as they both somehow managed to doze off while Amy and Eleven gallivanted in the TARDIS. Jemma stirred, cracking her eyes open, and stiffened slightly when she saw Fitz asleep on the bed with her, less than a foot away. Her movement must have jarred him from sleep, because he opened his eyes then, too.

“Mmm… Jemma?” He furrowed his brow at her. “‘S it morning?”

They were both laying on their sides, facing each other on the bed, so she rose up on one elbow to look for the clock over his shoulder. “It’s 4:30.”

He groaned quietly, adjusting the pillow under his head and letting his eyes slip shut again. “Go back to sleep.”

She sat up in bed, the nervous feeling creeping back into her chest. “What? No. We can’t. We didn’t review the plan! We said we were going to review it for another hour before bed.”

“Mmhmm. But sleep.”

She looked down at him, and her mind drifted back to the day she’d come home to find him sprawled across her couch, fast asleep. The image brought the tiniest of smiles to her face, but didn’t do much to quell her nerves. “What if we aren’t fully prepared tomorrow?”

Fitz sucked in a deep breath through his nose, puffing it out through his mouth, then forced his eyes open. He blinked up at her, one hand still underneath his pillow. “Jemma.”

“Yes?”

His gaze was softer than she’d seen it before, surely due to his tiredness. “You could have won this proposal the day you crashed into our conference room. Probably even before that.”

Her smile grew, and she felt some of her nervousness abate. “Yeah?”

“You know this stuff cold. At this point, you’ll benefit more from sleep than you would from rereading your notes.” He stifled a yawn. “You don’t need ‘em, anyway.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” His eyes were closed again, and his voice had grown softer. Jemma let herself slide back down to lie on her side, facing him, mimicking his position with her left hand under her pillow. She watched his even breathing, and let it center her. He was right. She knew her stuff completely. And so did he.

As she drifted back into a comforting sleep, she dimly thought that she’d have to tell Skye she’d been right-- they’d wound up sharing a bed, anyway.

 

\--

 

Six-thirty a.m. came quickly, and when the beeping alarm on Jemma’s phone began to go off, she awoke like she usually did-- bright-eyed and ready to face the day. The unusual part of waking up this particular morning was the fact that she wasn’t alone in bed.

She’d rolled over onto her back during the night, so she turned her head to the side to peek at Fitz. Still sleeping, he’d rolled onto his stomach. On the expanse of white hotel comforter in between them, he had one arm extended slightly toward her. Her own left hand rested just inches from his, and she wondered vaguely if their hands had made contact during the night, or just wanted to.

 _Never mind that_ , she thought. _Today’s proposal day!_

The getting ready part was easy-- once Fitz sheepishly slipped off the bed to return to his own room to shower and dress, she ran through her usual routine in record time. After a quick breakfast in the hotel lobby-- their blueberry scones didn’t hold a candle to the diner’s, but whose did?-- and a ten minute car ride, the moment had arrived.

“Are you ready?” she asked him as she gathered up the packets of information they’d pass out to the committee and exited the car.

He took one last sip of his to-go hotel coffee and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can. “As I’ll ever be.”

They began to walk side by side into the building where the NSF organization had their headquarters. Jemma peered at him out of the corner of her eye, pausing just before pushing open the door. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m ready?”

Fitz met her eyes and smiled warmly. “No.”

Oddly, that was all the encouragement she needed. She plowed through her parts of the proposal, segueing seamlessly into Fitz’s portions, then innately knowing when to take the lead again. She wowed the committee with statistics she didn’t even know she remembered (literally-- she heard the older man with the bad toupee whisper, “ _Wow_ ,” under his breath midway through her section on Pawnee’s outstanding environmental record).

By the time they’d reached the last page of their presentation, she knew they had it in the bag.

“Ms. Simmons, Mr. Fitz, this is some truly excellent work,” said the woman who sat in the middle of the long table-- the committee head. “You’ve covered every fact and figure we could need to know, and then some. I feel thoroughly convinced that Pawnee could handle this event.”

Jemma felt like she was glowing. “Thank you.”

“I just want to hear a little bit more about the town itself, and then I think we’ll be finished here,” the woman continued. She gestured at Fitz, who had taken a couple of steps backwards, ceding the floor to Jemma. “Mr. Fitz-- why don’t you tell us a little bit about what makes your town so great.”

Jemma froze. Why did they choose to ask _him_ that question? Why couldn’t they ask her? She could speak for hours and hours about why Pawnee was great. Fitz, as wonderful and as helpful as he’d been, didn’t even live there. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth shut-- interrupting or arguing with the committee wouldn’t do any good. She stared at Fitz, who stepped forward and shot her a look that seemed nervous. _Oh dear._

“Well, um.” Fitz cleared his throat, one hand rubbing the other in front of him. “I don’t-- I don’t technically live in Pawnee. It’s only been quite recently that I’ve gotten to experience everything the town has to offer.”

 _This is it_ , thought Jemma. _It’s over_. She looked up at the ceiling to collect herself, then back at Fitz. He met her eyes and took a breath. Then his lips quirked up in a smile, and he turned to fully face the judges.

“I’ve only recently found Pawnee, but I can already tell you that it’s the kind of place you go looking for. I’ve been to places all over the state in my job, big cities, small towns, but I’ve never found a place quite like that one.”

Jemma could feel the tension in her stomach begin to unknot itself as she watched him speak. She tucked her hair behind one ear and leaned in a bit, listening.

“The people in it are passionate, and smart-- brilliant, actually. And that’s what a town is, really. It’s people. People working together to do something great. And Pawnee has that in spades.” He ran his hand along his jaw, nodding slowly. “I think the biggest mistake this committee could make would be to overlook this town. This is the place you want your science fair to be.”

He finished speaking, and the room was silent for just a moment-- a moment in which Jemma felt like all the air whooshed out of the room. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, not even to gauge the mood of the committee. When he turned his head just slightly toward her and smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, that was it. _I’m in trouble_ , she thought, letting out a shaky breath as she smiled back.

“Alright, Mr. Fitz, Ms. Simmons, thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch.”

 

\---

 

“Did you mean it?” She waited until they’d been in the car nearly an hour to ask him. They’d high-fived, and turned up the Taylor Swift song playing on the radio, and stopped at a gas station for their favorite road trip snacks (roasted almonds for her; barbecue Fritos for him) first, then driven in companionable silence until they were about 40 miles outside of town.

He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. “Mean what?”

Jemma tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “You know what. About Pawnee.”

Fitz pressed his lips together in a tight line, thumb still moving on the wheel. After a beat, he looked over at her with a shrug and a small smile. “It’s grown on me.”

Her heart began to speed up as he watched her for a long moment before dragging his eyes back to the road. She thought that might be an understatement. Just as she was about to suggest as much, her cell rang in her bag.

“I don’t know the number,” she said as she pulled it out. “This is Jemma Simmons.”

“Ms. Simmons, this is Cheryl Roquefort with the NSF placement committee.”

“Yes, hello, Ms. Roquefort!” Now Jemma’s heart was beating fast for an entirely different reason. “How can I help you?”

“I’m just calling to inform you that the committee had a discussion after your presentation, and we were all very impressed. I won’t keep you long, but we’ve decided there’s no need to see any remaining proposals. This year’s National Science Fair will take place in Pawnee."

Jemma almost yelped, she almost dropped the phone into her lap, she almost surged across the car to kiss Fitz right on the lips, but instead she stayed still and kept the phone to her ear like the polite and collected adult she was. “Thank you so much, Ms. Roquefort. You won’t regret this.”

“I believe you’re right. See you in two weeks!”

Jemma pressed _End_ on the call and stared at Fitz in awe. “We did it.”

He answered with an elated grin. “Yeah, we did.”

 

\--

 

The next two weeks passed in a flurry of planning and preparing-- Jemma’s two favorite “P’s.” She and Fitz met with local business owners to ensure they were ready for the influx of tourists and worked with the facilities managers to get the event centers into shape. Skye, Bobbi, May and even Hunter did their part-- even Coulson stopped by in between rounds of budget meetings to pitch in. But on the whole, the National Science Fair project belonged to Jemma and Fitz.

The time flew by, and before Jemma knew it, she was sitting beside Fitz backstage in an auditorium, watching the judges present the first place ribbon to an 8th grader from Oregon.

“I can’t believe a month ago, I didn’t know any of this was going to happen,” remarked Jemma as she clapped for the young girl.

Fitz nudged her with his elbow. “That ought to be the next step in your preparedness, right? Premonitions.” He tsked at her. “You’ve really got to start seeing things before they happen, Jemma."

She laughed, ducking her head, his teasing making her feel warm and light. As he turned his attention back to the stage, she thought to herself, _I can’t believe a month ago, I didn’t know you._

 

\---

 

The day after the Science Fair, Jemma woke up like she always did-- filled with possibility. The sun shining through the windows seemed a little bit brighter, and the yellow of her kitchen wallpaper seemed a little bit cheerier.

The world must have already known the truth-- Jemma Simmons had an idea. A good one, if you asked her.

She’d been unable to get to sleep the night before, and it was because of the idea that was percolating in her mind. If Pawnee could pull off such a successful Science Fair-- one of the largest in recent years, the officials had told her-- why not a whole _festival_ devoted to science?

She could picture it-- stations where children and adults alike could conduct simple, fun experiments. Science-themed rides and games. Perhaps she could even bring in celebrity scientists like Bill Nye, or Neil DeGrasse Tyson, to speak to the crowds. Fitz could help with that; he was quite good at brainstorming unique ways to accomplish seemingly difficult tasks.

Her walk to the office seemed far too long. She couldn’t wait to pitch the idea to Fitz and Coulson-- they’d yet to evaluate how much of a boon the NSF had been for the city (Fitz had promised her an evening of number analysis accompanied by a bottle of wine the following night), but surely a festival like this would bring in revenue. And then the government would be back in business, and Jemma would get her telescope, and everything would work out the way it was supposed to.

Jemma practically vibrated with excitement as she crossed the threshold to the makeshift budget office. “Morning, Fitz! Morning, Coulson!” The pair looked up from their laptops at the sound of her voice. Coulson wore his trademark smirk, and Fitz smiled up at her, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. She furrowed her brow. Perhaps he had been up late thinking of ideas, too. She fought a blush as an image of Fitz sleeping just inches away from her popped into her head.

“You look like you’re in a good mood today, Jemma,” said Coulson. “Coffee?” He gestured at the coffee machine that sat atop a side table, but she shook her head.

“Don’t need it. Ideas give me effects that are very similar to caffeine.”

“You’re saying you have an idea?” Coulson asked. “Let’s hear it!” He shut his laptop and gave her his attention. Beside him, Fitz tapped his fingers lightly against the edge of the table and watched her. So far, he hadn’t said a word-- but she knew he’d be excited once she told them her idea. Then they’d have plenty to talk about and plan for.

“Picture this headline: Science-Mania Saves City: How One Town Turned Itself Around.” She explained her idea, from the spinning ride in the shape of chemical equations right down to Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Coulson nodded along, and Fitz seemed to be listening with rapt attention, as well.

“So there you have it,” finished Jemma with a flourish. “The first annual Pawnee Science Festival. It’s going to be brilliant.”

“Sounds great, Jemma!” Coulson opened his laptop back up, an impressed look on his face. “I love the idea. I can’t wait to hear how it goes.”

She knew it. She knew it was a good-- _wait a second_. “What do you mean, sir? Won’t you be seeing how it goes? I’m picturing this happening quite soon--” She flicked her gaze to Fitz. “Or at least, preparations beginning soon.”

“I’m afraid we won’t be here to see it for ourselves,” Coulson answered.

She was looking at Fitz when he said it. Fitz scratched idly at the side of his jaw, just barely not meeting her gaze. “What?” she asked quietly.

“We, um. Well, Coulson, really.” Fitz spoke softly, too, and slumped a little in his chair. “He found some loopholes. Moved some money around. Turns out, the city wasn’t quite as bad off as we’d expected.”

“Great news, isn’t it, Jemma?” Coulson smiled at her. “We’ll be heading back to the capitol this weekend to finish up some paperwork there, and then the Pawnee government will be back in business early next week.”

The bees were back, the ones that she’d heard buzzing in her head when the city manager had told her they were shut down. They were leaving? But Fitz was supposed to help her with the Science Festival. It was supposed to be their second big, successful project. The second of many, she’d imagined. They were supposed to...

“Excuse me,” she said, looking at the wall behind them. “I’m going to get to work in my office.” She spun around and headed for the door.

“Jemma, wait,” Fitz began, and she heard the telltale scrape of his chair being pushed back, but she didn’t turn around.

“No, Fitz, I’ve really got quite a lot of work, now that I know I’ll be planning the festival by myself. It’s alright.” She turned her head partway toward them, forcing her lips to quirk up into a half-hearted smile, and waved before beginning the long walk to her office alone.

 

\----

 

The weekend came too fast. Fitz and Coulson were due to head out on Sunday, so Saturday night, Jemma and Skye had planned a small get-together at the Boiler Room to say goodbye. It had been Jemma’s idea-- after all, what else did friends do for friends who were leaving?-- but she was fighting Skye every step of the way.

“You have to wear _some_ thing, Jemma.”

“I’ll wear this,” she answered, gesturing to her oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. Skye huffed at her, then reached deep into her closet to pull out a short black dress that Jemma hadn’t worn in years.

“Put this on and stop moping.”

“I’m not moping,” Jemma said, pulling off her sweats and slipping into the dress without giving it much thought.

“Oh my God, Jemma.” Skye rolled her eyes. “He’s just leaving town, not leaving the country. He’s going to be, like, five hours away. You guys can still make googly eyes at each other, just on the weekends.”

“But Skye, you don’t understand.” Jemma sighed, plopping down to sit on her bed and continuing speaking without moving her mouth as she allowed Skye to put lipstick on her. “Ee eren’t een ayyhing.”

“Blot.”

Jemma did as she was told. “We weren’t even anything,” she clarified. “Nothing had even happened between us yet. I’m not even totally sure if he wanted anything to happen.”

Skye barked out a laugh. “Trust me. I saw the way he looked at you. He wanted it.”

“Well, that’s even worse, then! You know what they say about ‘almosts.’”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t do the long distance thing, like billions of other couples do every day.”

Jemma stood and looked at herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair a bit before putting on her favorite delicate silver necklace. “Because we aren’t a couple.” She turned back to Skye. “I don’t know. Long distance so rarely works out. I guess I’m just being practical.”

Skye narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, you are. So stop it.” That got a tiny laugh out of Jemma, which Skye took as a cue that they were ready to leave.

 

\---

 

“Hey, girl,” Trip greeted Skye with a hug and a kiss to the forehead. “You look gorgeous as usual.” He nodded at Jemma, who was already surveying the bar. “You too, Jemma.”

“Thanks, Trip. Are the guests of honor here yet?”

“Coulson’s talking to Hunter down the bar, but I don’t know where your man is.”

Jemma grimaced. “He’s _not_ my man.”

“Sure thing. Let me get you ladies some drinks.” Trip disappeared behind the bar with a parting smile.

“Do you think maybe he didn’t come?” Jemma said anxiously to Skye, still peering around the dim space. She felt sad that Fitz was leaving, that he wouldn’t be around to help her with her next project, and the one after that, and the one after that, but she still wanted to spend time with him before he left. And if she was being entirely honest with herself, she wanted one last chance to get a glimpse at what might have been.

“I’m sure he’s around here somewhere…”

“Hey, Jem.” She spun around at the sound of his voice, and there he stood in the doorway, in his standard dark jeans and plaid button-down shirt. He had a narrow, patterned tie on this time, and had rolled up his shirtsleeves, and _damn_ , Jemma wished she’d kissed him already, so it wouldn’t be out of place for her to kiss him now.

“Hi, Fitz,” she said shyly instead. Skye greeted him, then excused herself to flirt with Trip, and they were alone.

Fitz rubbed one hand at the back of his head, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “How are you?”

“I’m-- I’m alright. And you?”

“Me? Oh, fine.” He kept fidgeting, and she kept staring at him, and why was this suddenly so awkward? If nothing else, it should be sad-- she’d finally admitted to herself that she could maybe, potentially, possibly fall for this man, and he was about to walk out of her life. So things should be sad, sure, but not awkward.

“So, um. Are you and Coulson going to ride back together, or--”

Suddenly, he sucked in a deep breath, and reached out to put an arm around her waist, leading her out of the bar. “Jemma, I need to talk to you.”

Once they were standing in the parking lot, bathed in the yellow glow of streetlamps and starlight, she turned to face him, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“Well, um. It’s just that-- I’m sort of--” He puffed out a breath, clearly frustrated with his inability to say what he wanted to say. She reached out a hand and squeezed his bicep lightly, letting her hand slide down his arm until it gripped his hand. She squeezed that too, her touch lingering for a moment before dropping it.

“What is it?”

He stared into her eyes for a beat, then looked down at the ground, putting his hands on his hips as he spoke. “You know Micro Labs, just outside of town?”

“Of course. They’re one of the biggest independent research labs in the region.”

“Yeah, _the_ biggest, actually. Well, um. I sort of applied for a position there. As head of their engineering department.”

Jemma felt her heart leap in her chest. That was big.

“And I sort of got the job.” He scuffed his toe on the asphalt, eyes still downcast. “They called me this afternoon to tell me.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Wow, Fitz, that’s-- that’s amazing.”

Finally, he looked up at her, meeting her eyes with his uncertain ones. “Yeah?”

She shook her head quickly. “Fitz, of _course_ that’s amazing. You deserve it.”

“Thing is,” he started. “I was wondering if you think I should take it? Because I haven’t. Yet. And if you think I should, then I want to, but if you don’t… want me to stay here, then I’ll--"

She didn’t let him finish. Instead, she did what she’d wanted to do for two weeks-- she closed the space between them with two short steps, threaded a hand in his hair and pulled him down to meet her lips. His hands drew around her waist as he kissed her back in earnest, opening his mouth to let his tongue stroke lightly against her own. She shivered and pulled him closer, her body lining up neatly against his own, and was just about to start walking him backward so she could press him up against the bar’s brick wall, when he pulled back, biting his lip.

“Wait-- so does this mean you think I should take the job, or…”

Jemma blinked up at him for a moment before letting out a surprised laugh, one hand trailing down his chest. She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his shoulder briefly, then pulled back to look up at him. “You’re lucky you’re so adorable. Because you’re clearly not as brilliant as I thought if you can’t figure that one out."

He chuckled, then made a face like he was about to ask for further clarification, so she leaned up and kissed him again. This time, his strong hands gently stroking her hair and his lips firm against hers told her he fully understood her answer.

Several minutes of making out like teenagers in the parking lot passed by before she finally pulled away, short of breath. He leaned back against the brick, his arms draped loosely around her waist as she leaned against him.

“When did you apply?”

He looked down at the ground, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Um. Remember the day we went for a beer during work?”

Jemma held her hand to her mouth as a happy laugh bubbled up within her. “You knew you might want to stay in town that early?”

Fitz met her eyes then, reaching out and tucking a piece of errant hair behind one of her ears. “I guess this town can kind of get under your skin.”

“Oh?” She grinned, leaning into his touch. He slid his hand along her jaw, thumb brushing lightly over her cheek.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “It’s the kind of town I can see myself living in for a long, long time.” He paused. “I kind of think I’m falling for this town.”

“Really?” She drew out the word.

“Really.” He pulled her even closer, letting his eyes slip shut and pressing his lips to hers once, twice, gently.

Jemma smiled into the kiss. She made a pleased little noise in the back of her throat when he pulled away, and she reached out to take his hand. “Well, Fitz. Looks like we need to get you to the official Pawnee welcoming committee.”

He frowned as she began to lead him away by the hand. “But I thought… okay. Who’s on the welcome committee?”

She looked at him over her shoulder as she pulled him toward her car, heart feeling at once weightless and full. She winked. “Just me. The committee meets in my bedroom. The meeting starts in 10 minutes.”

Fitz stopped in place for a moment, mouth hanging open. Jemma giggled, and when she tugged him forward, he followed eagerly. He put an arm around her shoulders and she slowed down enough to lean up and kiss him on the cheek, whispering in his ear, “Welcome to Pawnee.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


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